Khan Academy: an invaluable new resource in your effort to learn everything

As I’ve written before,  good lawyers need to know everything. In other words, your professional life is  a constant and endless process of learning. One of the foremost skills you bring to your clients is an ability to become fluent in their affairs and to be able to communicate your understanding of those affairs clearly, concisely, and persuasively to audiences who may never have encountered those things.

Libraries, of course, are therefore invaluable. And the internet is a miracle. But still, finding the right resources to learn a particular topic is difficult. I came out of college and law school knowing Latin and Ancient Greek and a lot of history and literature, but I needed to learn an awful lot very quickly about things like finance, insurance, economics, and business, and the effort to educate myself was an adventure. The internet has, of course, only multiplied the tedious, obscure, and downright erroneous “authorities.” So I am always thrilled to find a source that speaks to me and genuinely teaches me. And I am thrilled to have found Khan Academy. As the home page explains:

The Khan Academy is a not-for-profit organization with the mission of providing a high quality education to anyone, anywhere.

We have 1400+ videos on YouTube covering everything from basic arithmetic and algebra to differential equations, physics, chemistry, biology and finance which have been recorded by Salman Khan. . . .

The Khan Academy and Salman Khan have received a 2009 Tech Award in Education. The Tech Awards is an international awards program that honors innovators from around the world who are applying technology to benefit humanity.

Here is Mr. Khan’s introductory video:

If Girl Talk does get sued, I’d love to represent him.

Greg Gillis and I see things very similarly, and I”m a big fan too:

Viacom’s schizophrenia over YouTube: the industry cries “serial killer!”

Does YouTube threaten the entertainment industry? On the one hand, Viacom and others will scream that it threatens the very livelihood of those who produce our entertainment. On the other, Viacom and others use it effectively to promote their products. And would you really prefer a regime that required YouTube to approve the legitimacy of every video uploaded to it? Frankly, it simply wouldn’t exist if that were required. To me it makes sense that if a copyright holder believes his copyright is being infringed by an online video, he can have it removed upon request. And if the person who uploaded the video believes the request is mistaken, he can ask Google to review it and make its determination at that point whether it will allow it to remain.

Moreover, history teaches that you should view with extreme skepticism the cries of alarm from the entertainment industry. In doing so, you likely would be doing them a favor.

As I wrote the other day in connection with the decision dismissing Viacom’s lawsuit against Google alleging copyright infringement for the posting on YouTube of videos infringing Viacom’s copyrights, As I wrote above, the existing regime makes sense to me and, as I wrote in that recent post,  ”[t]he decision is a straightforward application of the DMCA’s “safe harbor” provision, which insulates service providers from liability for activities by their users that infringe copyrights.” Viacom, of course, disagrees, stating in its press release:

We believe that this ruling by the lower court is fundamentally flawed and contrary to the language of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, the intent of Congress, and the views of the Supreme Court as expressed in its most recent decisions. We intend to seek to have these issues before the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit as soon as possible.

And those who represent the interests of large corporate copyright holders such as Viacom, like the Washington Legal Foundation (whose mission is to “champion free market principles [and] limited and accountable government”) argue that the decision allows Google “to exploit the statute’s safe harbors by designing an entire business model based on improperly profiting from copyrighted content.” Ronald Cass writes in Forbes that the decision is “broad enough to sink the protection copyright holders had enjoyed under the law.” And the Directors Guild of America claims its members’ very livelihoods are at stake:

We fear that the precedent established in this ruling, if not overturned by the appeals court, could result in a drastic rising tide of Internet theft that could decimate our members’ livelihoods, their pension and health plans, and their ability to continue creating the content that is beloved by people all over the world.

Reading these dire warnings you might not realize that as the judge stated in his decision Google took down the offending videos the day after Viacom delivered a mass takedown notice identifying the ones it claimed a copyright in. Nor would you realize that Viacom recognized the value of YouTube to its business by employing people to post its videos to YouTube to promote its productions while at the same time other Viacom employees were adding those same videos to the list for the takedown notice:

For years, Viacom continuously and secretly uploaded its content to YouTube, even while publicly complaining about its presence there. It hired no fewer than 18 different marketing agencies to upload its content to the site. It deliberately “roughed up” the videos to make them look stolen or leaked. It opened YouTube accounts using phony email addresses. It even sent employees to Kinko’s to upload clips from computers that couldn’t be traced to Viacom. And in an effort to promote its own shows, as a matter of company policy Viacom routinely left up clips from shows that had been uploaded to YouTube by ordinary users. Executives as high up as the president of Comedy Central and the head of MTV Networks felt “very strongly” that clips from shows like The Daily Show and The Colbert Report should remain on YouTube.

Viacom’s efforts to disguise its promotional use of YouTube worked so well that even its own employees could not keep track of everything it was posting or leaving up on the site. As a result, on countless occasions Viacom demanded the removal of clips that it had uploaded to YouTube, only to return later to sheepishly ask for their reinstatement. In fact, some of the very clips that Viacom is suing us over were actually uploaded by Viacom itself.

Fear that directors will have their livelihoods decimated and that the decision sinks copyright protection is of course, nothing new for an entertainment industry that can profit enormously from new technologies they demonize, so Viacom’s schizophrenia is, perhaps, progress over Hollywood’s reaction to the VCR, which was 100% self-destructive. In 1982, Jack Valenti, in sworn testimony before Congress , stated “that the VCR is to the American film producer and the American public as the Boston Strangler is to the woman home alone.” But, as Digital America explains, Valenti was not merely crying wolf — he was describing the greatest benefit to the movie industry in the last 40 years as a serial killer:

As the VCR became more important to the consuming public, the Hollywood establishment that fought it bowed to its inevitable benefits. In January 1984, the U.S. Supreme Court concluded 5-4 that VCRs were legal products and that home taping of copyrighted works fell under the “fair use” exception to copyright. While Congress passed the Audio Home Recording Act of 1992 (AHRA), legislative attempts to codify the Betamax decision and fair video recording rights are still pending before Congress. CEA (at that time known as the Consumer Electronics Group of the Electronic Industries Association), in cooperation with the Home Recording Rights Coalition, protected the legality of home recording and promoted the acceptance of the new technology.

Additionally Hollywood studios established home video divisions to reap the profits from a technology it once considered a threat. Blay’s idea sparked a retail revolution as hundreds of mom-and-pop video rental and sales stores popped up in every community in America. In 1987, video rental income reached $5.25 billion for the year, surpassing movie theater ticket sales for the first time. Today, movie studios regularly make more money on a film from home video sales and rentals than from the theatrical box office.

EMI goes Zombie: its business is now owning and exploiting its copyrights.

I’ve written before that the publishing industry is a “walking corpse” because the virtual monopoly the industry once had over the production and distribution of texts is gone:

The ways we produce, copy, and disseminate information have entirely changed. Anyone sitting in a coffee shop can produce a document that looks as if it’s been typeset. (And I’m sure my students have no clue what typesetting is.) That document can be copied at virtually no cost, and disseminated world-wide at virtually no cost.

The same, of course, goes for the music industry. And now EMI is proving that it is no more than a zombie preying off of the vitality of living art rather than producing life. As The Economist reports, EMI is abandoning the business of producing music and instead converting to a business that exploits intellectual property rights:

In recent days EMI’s owner, Terra Firma, a private-equity firm, has had to pump in fresh capital because it had breached its banking covenants. On June 18th it announced drastic management changes and an important strategic shift. Two of its bosses, Charles Allen and John Birt, will leave, and the head of EMI’s music-publishing division, Roger Faxon, will become chief executive of the whole company. EMI also announced that it would “reposition itself as a comprehensive rights-management company serving artists and songwriters worldwide”. Rough translation: owning and exploiting the copyright to songs, rather than selling recordings of songs, is where the money’s going to be from now on.

Judge Dismisses Viacom’s Lawsuit against Google for Infringing Videos Uploaded to YouTube.

Judge Louis L. Stanton of the United States District Court for the Southern District of New York has granted Google’s motion for summary judgment (opinion and order embedded below) and dismissed Viacom’s lawsuit that alleged that that Google was liable under the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA) for videos uploaded to YouTube that infringed Viacom’s copyrights because Google had “actual knowledge” and was “aware of facts and circumstances from which infringing activity [was] apparent” but failed to “act[] expeditiously to stop it, “received a financial benefit directly attirubutable to the infringing activity” and “had the right and ability to control such activity” and did not engage in these infringements solely by providing “storage at the direction of the user” or any other Internet function specificied in the DMCA.”

The decision is a straightforward application of the DMCA’s “safe harbor” provision, which insulates service providers from liability for activities by their users that infringe copyrights. The judge acknowledged that Viacom was right about its central contention: Google was “not only aware of, but welcomed, copyright-infringing material being placed on their website.” (Opinion and Order at 6) Nonetheless, he also noted that Google designates an agent who, when he receives a takedown notice, “swiftly” removes infringing videos. (Id.)

The judge concluded that for Google to be liable under the DMCA Viacom would have to show more than that Google knew that infringing activity “in general” was occurring on YouTube because the DMCA does not require that degree of responsibility on service providers for the actions of its users:

To let knowledge of a generalized practice of infringement in the industry, or of a proclivity of users to post infringing materials, impose responsibility on service providers to discover which of their users’ postings infringe a copyright would contravene the structure and operation of the DMCA.

By insulating service providers from liability for infringements by their users, the Judge Stanton concluded, the DMCA makes perfect sense because it would be far too burdensome for the service provider to make individual judgments on each of its user’s activities to determine whether those activities were infringing:

The infringing works . . . may be a small fraction of millions of works posted [on the service provider’s] platform, [and the service provider] cannot by inspection whether the use has been licensed by the owner, or whether its posting is a “fair use” of the material, or even whether its copyright owner or licensee objects to its posting. The DMCA is explicit: it shall not be construed to condition “safe harbor” protection on a “service provider monitoring its service or affirmatively seeking facts indicating infringing activity . . . .”  (citations omitted)

Moreover, the fact Google took down over 100,000 videos within one business day in response to a single, mass take-down notice sent by Viacom was proof to Judge Stanton that the existing regime works perfectly well:

Indeed, the present case shows that the DMCA notification regime works efficiently: when Viacom over a period ov months accumulated some 100,000 videos and then sent one mass take-down notice on February 2, 2007, by the next business day YouTube had removed virtually all of them.

Viacom v YouTube Summary Judgment

The good thing about being a lawyer is there’s always someone to tell you you’re wrong.

Jeffrey R. Di Leo, Dean of Arts and Sciences at the University of Houston-Victoria, writes in “In Praise of Tough Criticism” that academics are reluctant to criticize one another and that, as a result, their disagreements are couched either in faint praise or anonymity, both of which neutralize the very disagreement that ought to be the foundation of intellectual life:

[G]iving faint praise is far worse than saying nothing at all. Why? Because silence is not a critical judgment—but faint praise, in contrast to honest and direct criticism, is empty criticism, the most banal form imaginable.

Another way that compassionate, caring critics get around their credo is to shroud their negative comments in anonymity. . . .

Like faint praise, anonymous criticism is empty criticism. Consider a recent example from The Chronicle Review. Carlin Romano’s article “Heil Heidegger!” was savaged in numerous anonymous comments. “Romano writes like an undergrad convinced by the argument of the last book he has read,” wrote one critic. “And, yes, he is a professor of philosophy, and yes, he was a Pulitzer Prize finalist, but his understanding of philosophy is so paltry that it beggars belief.” To that and other similar comments, Romano responded: “Those who savage me and my article from behind anonymous Internet tags emulate the cowardice, dishonesty, and taste for mobbing of the Nazi thinker they revere. It has often been that way with dupes who defend Heidegger—an abysmal thinker and writer, an immoral monster, and a disgrace to the historic enterprise of philosophy.”

Whether or not one agrees with Romano’s views of Heidegger, his take on anonymity is worth thinking about. Anonymity has more in common with cowardice than with courage—and is antithetical to critical dialogue. The common rationale for academic anonymity is quite clear: Honesty and truth require anonymity. To offer critical judgment anonymously, or, as Michel Foucault puts it in The Archaeology of Knowledge (Pantheon Books, 1972), as “a nameless voice,” allows one to stand outside the order of discourse, dialogue, and language. Writes Foucault, “I don’t want to have to enter this risky world of discourse; I want nothing to do with it insofar as it is decisive and final; I would like to feel it all around me, calm and transparent, profound, infinitely open, with others responding to my expectations, and truth emerging, one by one.” In other words, anonymity is more calming and less risky—or even more cowardly—than named criticism.

The inclination to pull one’s punches, to refrain from stating straight out one’s disagreement with one’s colleagues and the reasons for the disagreement, seems to me a particular problem in law schools. I always tell my students that one of the blessings of being a lawyer is that there’s always someone telling you you’re wrong, whether it’s your adversary, a judge, or even your client. That constant challenge to your views forces you to both be as thoughtful and well-spoken as is possible, and it forces you too to trust in your own judgment, not to defer always to authority. Lawyers disagree as a matter of professional duty. If law professors refuse to voice disagreement, they are therefore doing their students a disservice. they are like parents who model irresponsible behavior to their children.

I’m not suggesting one not be civil. Nasty adversaries make wonderful work unpleasant. But professional adversaries are a pleasure. They recognize that disagreement is one’s professional duty, and they don’t take your disagreement with them personally.

Addendum: Law professors don’t like telling their students they’re wrong either.

Slow reading: one piece in a good reader’s arsenal.

I sometimes read very slowly, and sometimes very quickly. It may be that attention spans are shrinking. I often have a difficult time getting my students to simply stop and think about what they’ve read. And so I’m all on board with the “slow reading” movement:

“The idea is not to read everything as slowly as possible, however. As with the slow food movement, the goal is a closer connection between readers and their information, said John Miedema, whose 2009 book Slow Reading explores the movement.

“‘It’s not just about students reading as slowly as possible,’ he said. ‘To me, slow reading is about bringing more of the person to bear on the book.’”

Even my 17 year old son makes fun of how slowly I read the many novels and history books I’m always trudging through, but, as I tell him, I tend to remember almost everything I read in those books. And as I research, I come across articles and books I move very slowly through, trying to make sense of every last word. It drives me particularly crazy when I ask my students what a new legal word means and none of them know. How can they read law — something they’re trying to learn — without a dictionary and without the effort to understand what it is they’re reading?

But sometimes I have to read quickly too. If you research a difficult legal question, you’ll often have to read, literally, hundreds of cases. You don’t engage in “slow reading” to find your way through hundreds of cases to the handful that merit serious study and will genuinely help answer the question you’re researching.

So, slow reading is good. So is fast reading, skimming. What makes a truly good reader is doing both and deploying them effectively.

Friday Night Innovation Night: If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out

Students don’t like professors who teach them the really difficult things.

As I wrote the other day, one of my most difficult tasks as a teacher is to get students to focus on learning rather than on grades, to try to master the skills I am teaching rather than insist on being told what they need to “know” in order to get an A. In doing so, I may be insisting on what I ought to be insisting on if in fact I am trying to advance my students on the exceedingly difficult road to becoming excellent lawyers, but I may also be undermining my own professional advancement. How can that be? Well, it’s been clear to me for a long time that I pay a price with students when I am unable to simply tell them that they need to know and do “A, B, and C” to get a good grade. Those students give me terrible evaluations. And, indeed, I’ve found students tend to either love me or hate me. Those students who get that I’m pushing them to learn and do things they’ve never been taught to do and learn before love me. They realize learning is the result of the work they put into learning, not the result of what I give them in nice, neat packages to regurgitate to me as information they’ve memorized. But the bad evaluations not only hurt; they have an impact in the evaluation of my performance that would perhaps astonish those outside academia. (Why in the world would an organization give credence to the evaluations of terrible students — (whose evaluations, done anonymously, cannot be distinguished from the evaluations of excellent students?)

And now I have evidence that my deep doubts about the reliability and use of student evaluations are well founded. In a study entitled “Does Professor Quality Matter? Evidence from Random Assignment of Students to Professors,” (pdf) Scott E. Carrell of the University of California, Davis and National Bureau of Economic Research and James E. West of the U.S. Air Force Academy conclude that students give good evaluations to professors who teach students what they need for a good grade in their course but punish professors who teach subject matter that provides knowledge and skills that have long-term value:

[S]tudents appear to reward higher grades in the introductory course but punish professors who increase deep learning (introductory course professor value-added in follow-on courses). Since many U.S. colleges and universities use student evaluations as a measurement of teaching quality for academic promotion and tenure decisions, this latter finding draws into question the value and accuracy of this practice. (emphasis added)

Addendum: Stanley Fish expresses feelings similar to mine about students’ abilities to judge the quality of teaching in connection with proposals in Texas “for college and university teachers to contract with their customers — that is, students — and to be rewarded by as much as $10,000 depending on whether they meet the contract’s terms. The idea is to hold “tenured professors more accountable” (“A&M regents push reforms,” The Eagle, June 13, 2010), and what they will be accountable to are not professional standards but the preferences of their students, who, in advance of being instructed, are presumed to be authorities on how best they should be taught”:

[S]ometimes (although not always) effective teaching involves the deliberate inducing of confusion, the withholding of clarity, the refusal to provide answers; sometimes a class or an entire semester is spent being taken down various garden paths leading to dead ends that require inquiry to begin all over again, with the same discombobulating result; sometimes your expectations have been systematically disappointed. And sometimes that disappointment, while extremely annoying at the moment, is the sign that you’ve just been the beneficiary of a great course, although you may not realize it for decades.

Needless to say, that kind of teaching is unlikely to receive high marks on a questionnaire that rewards the linear delivery of information and penalizes a pedagogy that probes, discomforts and fails to provide closure. Student evaluations, by their very nature, can only recognize, and by recognizing encourage, assembly-line teaching that delivers a nicely packaged product that can be assessed as easily and immediately as one assesses the quality of a hamburger.

And I don’t mean to suggest student evaluations are pointless. Like at least one commenter, I have gleaned very valuable things from my student evaluations. But I know too that they are also rife with the kind of hostility and irrationality that can only come from anonymity and the kind of profound discomfort that can come from genuinely educational experience. Finally, I know too that everyone gets negative student evaluations. The biggest problem is that the process of evaluating teachers has become so dependent on evaluations that the availability of negative evaluations means that the evaluators always have available “evidence” to support their desire to refuse promotion to a faculty member they don’t like for reasons that have nothing to do with the quality of their teaching.

Law students: what you learn is more important than your grade!

Ray Ward is a wise man. He sums up in a sentence what I often spend a year trying to get through to my students:

What you learn in a course is more important than your grade for that course.

It’s a particularly difficult point to get across to law students. One reason is that law school itself is packed almost entirely with people who feel that there’s a strong correlation between what you’ve learned, your intelligence, and your grade. Virtually all law professors had the highest or near the highest GPAs in their graduating classes from elite law schools. In my experience, people who succeed in an institution tend to believe that institution is very good at measuring success. Thus, law professors tend to think law school grades are good measure of success at learning law. And law students don’t know any better. They have no way to measure their success but grades. There is virtually no other feedback on their performance and their progress.

Lawyers I know genuinely do feel differently — that law school grades are poor predictors of success as a lawyer, and what studies there are confirm that the typical predictors of law school success are not good predictors of success in legal practice.

But it’s not easy getting that message across to law students, especially when your law professor colleagues don’t agree.

Does Westlaw infringe a lawyer’s copyright in his legal document? This lawsuit won’t tell us.

The Lawyer’s Weekly reports that lawyer Lorne Waldman has filed a class action in Canada alleging that Westlaw infringes the copyrights held in the documents lawyers file in court and that Westlaw publishes through its online, for pay research service:

The Toronto lawyer contends that the defendants’ Westlaw Litigator service is infringing his copyright, and that of hundreds, if not thousands, of other lawyers by reproducing (in PDF, Microsoft Word and other downloadable formats), and making available on-line for a fee,  more than 50,000 pleadings, court motions and facta the defendants recently copied from civil court files across Canada.

The case raises interesting copyright questions, but I don’t think the court will ever decide those questions.

A class action is a lawsuit brought on behalf of a group of people who have identical legal claims against a defendant arising out of identical facts. Rules of court procedure allow cases to be aggregated promotes efficiency by, in the words of Wikipedia, “aggregat[ing] a large number of individualized claims into one representational lawsuit.” There is a strong incentive too for plaintiffs’ lawyers to  bring class actions — the lawyers for the plaintiff who represents the class by running the lawsuit (typically, though not necessarily, the plaintiff who brings the lawsuit) earn fees based on a percentage of the award given to the entire class. Allowing this bonanza is a better idea than it sounds in many cases — without the promise of the large payday at the end of the case, no one would sue a large corporation like Westlaw individually because the cost would be so great for a minuscule recovery. Thus, the class action device protects against corporate activity that would cheat individual consumers out of small amounts.

Before a case that has been filed as a class action, like Mr. Waldman’s, can proceed, however, the court must determine whether it should proceed as a class action. If the court determines the case should not be a class action, it will deny “certification” of a class of plaintiffs and the case, should it proceed, will have to proceed as an individual lawsuit. That, I contend, is what will likely happen to Mr. Waldman’s, and I’m not sure it’s worth his while to litigate against a behemoth like the owners of Westlaw for the relatively small recovery he’d win even should he prevail.

Why do i think the court likely will not find Waldman’s case suitable for class action treatment? Because determining whether a given document is even entitled to copyright protection in the first place requires close scrutiny of the individual document. A huge number (arguably the vast majority) of legal documents are pastiches of other documents; many are purely formulaic. The less original a document is, the less likely it will be deemed worthy of copyright protection.

In short, determining whether Westlaw infringes the copyright on a specific legal document requires inquiry into the nature of that specific document. Examination of every document created by lawyers and published by Westlaw is precisely the kind of individualized, exhaustive procedure the class action is designed to make unnecessary. If that individualized inquiry is necessary, the case will not be certified as a class action.

Accordingly, the only way Mr. Waldman is likely to prevail on his claims is if he’s willing to go it alone and establish both that his documents are entitled to copyright protection and that Westlaw’s activities are an infringement of those copyrights.

Stealing what you love

John Pareles wrote, in “Plagiarism in Dylan, or a Cultural Collage?,”that “[i]deas aren’t meant to be carved in stone and left inviolate; they’re meant to stimulate the next idea and the next.” Accordingly, in words apropos of a point I’ve made over and over and over on this blog, he explains:

The absolutely original artist is an extremely rare and possibly imaginary creature, living in some isolated habitat where no previous works or traditions have left any impression. Like virtually every artist, Mr. Dylan carries on a continuing conversation with the past. He’s reacting to all that culture and history offer, not pretending they don’t exist. Admiration and iconoclasm, argument and extension, emulation and mockery — that’s how individual artists and the arts themselves evolve. It’s a process that is neatly summed up in Mr. Dylan’s album title “Love and Theft, ” which itself is a quotation from a book on minstrelsy by Eric Lott. (hyperlinks added)

Another masterful artist, David Foster Wallace, wrote, “No one who is invested in any kind of art . . . can read [Lewis Hyde's book] The Gift and remain unchanged.” It is Hyde’s thesis not merely that all art builds on earlier art, but that it is precisely the artist’s recognition that his creations are gifts that sustains his creativity. In other words, the capacity to create is a gift given to the artist and is given only if the artist understands his own creations as gifts themselves that other artists can use themselves in their acts of creation:

It is the assumption of this book that a work of art is a gift, not a commodity. Or, to state the modern case with more precision, that works of art exist simultaneously in two “economics,” a market economy and a gift economy. Only one of these is essential, however: a work of art can survive without the market, but where there is no gift there is no art.

So it should be no surprise that Andreas Hykade entitled this brilliant video “Love & Theft“:

Sunday afternoon music break: Paint it Black (Oil Spill Mix)

Just say it!

It is a truth often assumed that a lawyer in need of an argument must arm herself with rules stated in legalese. There could be few more difficult assumptions to overcome in educating new lawyers.

One of my more profound light bulb moments as a young lawyer came a few months into my first job, after I’d written the first draft of a brief for a partner. After he’d had a chance to review the draft he called me into his office to discuss it. I entered, carrying, of course, the draft that by this time I’d virtually memorized. He asked me why I thought we’d win. I glanced at the draft and he said, “No. Put it down. I want you to tell me in your own words, in plain English, without telling me what the cases say.” So I slowly sputtered out a brief explanation in plain English, thinking that this was going to be painstaking, that the simple plain English explanation would be followed with a discussion of each case and the reasoning of each judge in each case, and then we’d have to cobble all these pieces together . . .

In response to my plain English explanation, he said, “Then why didn’t you just say that?” I blinked, and asked in stupid amazement, “I can do that?” He laughed, and answered, “That’s exactly what you are supposed to do.” Wow, just explain in plain English, without resort to legalistic rules and long chains of reasoning from premises established by Lord Blackstone? What an amazing idea, and what a truly difficult one to grasp.

I was reminded of this today when I read the post at Lawyerist.com entitled “Improve Your Legal Writing: Just Say It“:

Say what you want to say. Do not imply it, do not hint at it, just say it. This can be difficult at times, but it will improve your writing, and make your arguments more persuasive.

Losing $500 million was a legal win: outcomes and predictions from a lawyer’s point-of-view

In case you haven’t read it already, there’s a new study that purports to establish that lawyers consistently overestimate the chances of success in their cases (pdf). David Post of the Volokh Conspiracy takes the study and applies the typical academic condescension to practitioners: “I’m constantly amazed, given the obvious fact that half of all litigants are holding losing hands, at how easily most lawyers can persuade themselves of the rightness of their client’s cause.”

Jeff Gamso, a criminal defense attorney (and former English professor!) in Toledo, Ohio who writes a terrific blog, Gamso for the Defense, takes a much more nuanced approach to the study in his post, “Blessed are the Oddsmakers.” First, it’s important to note the difference between criminal defense and civil litigation. As Gamso reminds his readers, in his practice, “[m]ost trials result in guilty verdicts. But most cases aren’t tried; they’re resolved by pleas of one sort or another.” It reminds me of what a friend of mine, a public defender, once told my class in response to the question “what’s the hardest part of your job?” He answered, “Losing 95% of my cases.”

But Gamso reminds us that pleas, the criminal analog to a civil settlement, is a strategic move made with the best possible` estimation of likelihood of success at trial, an estimation by no means easy to make:

The idea of the plea is that it’s a compromise because trials are problematic. They’re a lot of work and they are, ultimately, uncertain. Anyone who’s been at this for a while can tell you that juries and judges sometimes surprise. We win (whatver that means) some cases we should lose. We lose (whatever that means) some cases we should win. The jury, the judge, the world sometimes just gets it wrong.

Accordingly, the decision to accept an offer from the other side is a complicated combination of prediction of an uncertain future, the ability to convey the relevant information to the client, the other side’s own predictions and resulting offer (if any), the client’s own inclinations and decision (it is his decision), and the adversary’s response to the client’s decision.

Perhaps most importantly, however, it’s fundamental to any effective legal representation to understand that lawsuits and prosecutions are not binary, win/loss situations. Overcoming binary thinking is, in fact, one of the most important and difficult tasks in teaching first year law students. It’s difficult enough to get students to understand that the outcome of a case is the only thing that matters to a client, but then also to get them to realize that the result is usually a whole lot more complicated matter than merely stating that the plaintiff or defendant won or lost. (And it’s a shame that Remedies is one of the most neglected courses in law schools these days.) Let’s get this straight: Exxon won the litigation which resulted in it paying over $500 million in punitive damages. Or, as Gamso so pungently puts it in connection with criminal defense:

[David] Dow tells of Van Orman, an innocent man on death row. He simply didn’t commit the crime. He’s also got mental retardation. Dow proves the retardation and gets him off the row. Now the innocent man will do life in prison. “But I’m a death-penalty lawyer and Van Orman won’t get executed, so I count it as a victory. One of my clients committed suicide a week before his execution. That’s a victory. Another died of AIDS. A victory.”

You bet. I had a client who died of hepatitis right after I filed the papers asking the U.S. Supreme Court to hear the case. He died before the state had a chance to reply, certainly before the Court ruled. That goes down as a win. That’s how it works when you’re doing death penalty defense. Whenever the government doesn’t murder your client, you’ve got a win.

All of which is a way of saying that in this business, winning often isn’t an all-or-nothing proposition. Confession suppressed? Win. Even if the drugs aren’t suppressed? Yep. Just not a complete win.

•Get some of the charges dismissed? Win. Even if the client’s found guilty of some things? Yep. Just not a complete win.

•Get a five year sentence? Win if the client might have gotten 8. Or 50.

•LWOP? Win if the alternative was death.

•Continuance? Hung jury? Wins. Even if they’re only temporary. (The old line is that a continuance is as good as an acquittal – it just doesn’t last as long.)

•Client goes home after a not guilty verdict? Big Win.

And on it goes.

The key isn’t that what counts as a win depends. The key is that you need to have a sense of things. (emphasis added)

Yes, the key is to have a sense of things. A win is getting the best outcome the circumstances permit you to get for a client. Do human beings tend to be overconfident in their predictions? Cognitive science establishes that does indeed seem to be the case, and as a lawyer you ought to be aware of it, and you ought to be aware that your adversary shares the same bias, and you ought to be aware of the risks associated with going to trial, and you ought to be aware of your client’s fears and desires and his ability to deal with risk and loss. You need to have a sense of an infinite number of things, and the better your sense of these things is and the better you are at communicating them to your client, the better you will be as a lawyer and the better the outcomes you will produce. Will you be able to tally those outcomes as wins and losses? Only if you have a very flexible understanding of what constitutes a win or a loss.

Our courts and legislatures are bought and paid for — the laws they’ve made with respect to oil spills prove it.

In March, I emphasized — not for the first time — the insanity of considering corporate and other business entities as rational actors of the sort many economists consider people to be. The problem is that corporate decisions are made by individuals and are therefore driven to benefit those individuals, not the corporations (and their shareholders).”

One reason corporations focus on short-term profits is that the individuals making the decisions for a company will often take the cash made in the short term out of the company (by paying special dividends, for example) and then sell there stock, evading the long-term loss. Even if they hold onto their stock, they may have taken so much cash out of the company before the stock crashes in value that they’ve profited mightily from their holdings regardless of the company’s failures.

But still another reason is the idiocy of the regulation that is in place, regulation that instead of imposing responsibility on the companies for problems they cause limits that responsibility.

10 days ago David Leonhardt wrote about the  perversity of the federal limitations on corporate liability for oil spills and how they made BP’s oil spill, in retrospect, no great surprise:

In a little-noticed provision in a 1990 law passed after the Exxon Valdez spill, Congress capped a spiller’s liability over and above cleanup costs at $75 million for a rig spill. Even if the economic damages — to tourism, fishing and the like — stretch into the billions, the responsible party is on the hook for only $75 million. (In this instance, BP has agreed to waive the cap for claims it deems legitimate.) Michael Greenstone, an M.I.T. economist who runs the Hamilton Project in Washington, says the law fundamentally distorts a company’s decision making. Without the cap, executives would have to weigh the possible revenue from a well against the cost of drilling there and the risk of damage. With the cap, they can largely ignore the potential damage beyond cleanup costs. So they end up drilling wells even in places where the damage can be horrific, like close to a shoreline. To put it another way, human frailty helped BP’s executives underestimate the chance of a low-probability, high-cost event. Federal law helped them underestimate the costs.

We shouldn’t be surprised, then, at BP’s pathetic safety record and the retrospective inevitability of the Gulf spill:

Years before the Deepwater Horizon rig blew, BP was developing a reputation as an oil company that took safety risks to save money. An explosion at a Texas refinery killed 15 workers in 2005, and federal regulators and a panel led by James A. Baker III, the former secretary of state, said that cost cutting was partly to blame. The next year, a corroded pipeline in Alaska poured oil into Prudhoe Bay. None other than Joe Barton, a Republican congressman from Texas and a global-warming skeptic, upbraided BP managers for their “seeming indifference to safety and environmental issues.”

BP was only acting rationally!

Unsurprisingly, the Supreme Court has teamed with Congress in being an accessory to the corporate rape of the country. Even if compensatory damages are capped, conceivably courts can impose punitive damages in civil lawsuits to deter particularly egregious conduct. And, indeed, courts reacted precisely that way to the Exxon Valdez oil spill — that is, until the Supreme Court stepped in. In 1994, a jury imposed $5 billion in punitive damages on ExxonMobil for the Exxon Valdez  oil spill. 12 years later an appellate court reduced that amount to $2.5 billion, half the original amount.

2 years later, in a 5-3 vote (Sam Alito recused himself from the case because he owned Exxon stock), the Supreme Court reduced the amount to $507.5 million, about 10% of the jury’s award. The Court ruled that punitive damages (intended to punish bad behavior, not to compensate a plaintiff for his losses caused by that behavior) cannot be greater than compensatory damages (which compensate victims for their economic losses). As reported at the time, the reduced amount represented “about 12 hours of revenue for [Exxon], which reported record profits of $40.6 billion in February.” Justice Souter, writing for the Court, explained that “a penalty should be reasonably predictable in its severity, so that even Justice Holmes’s ‘bad man’ can look ahead with some ability to know what the stakes are in choosing one course of action or another. See The Path of the Law, 10 Harv. L. Rev. 457, 459 (1897). Exxon Shipping Co. v. Baker (U.S. 2008)(hyperlink added).

Of course, one might argue pretty cogently that neither the Exxon Valdez spill nor the BP Gulf spill were conceivable in the minds of the people who made the decisions that resulted in disasters and that it is precisely that failure to conceive of, much less consider, those consequences that is what the courts should retain the power to punish.

A key to effective creative effort: copying. Or “don’t reinvent the wheel.”

A genius with whom I once worked, Gene Anderson, ran our firm pursuant to “10 principles” (there were more than 10, but that discrepancy was entirely consistent with the principles). An important one was “don’t reinvent the wheel.” You’re job is to represent the client as well as you can, and that means as efficiently as you can. If someone else has written the great brief on the point you’re arguing, start with that brief (even if it was an adversary’s). As I’ve written in an article to be published, this notion is entirely consistent with legal authorship. More importantly by far, it is good business. So Scott Berkun is acting wisely in his most recent Bloomberg Businessweek column, “Stop Trying to Reinvent the Wheel,” in which he identifies ignorance and the over-valuing of novelty as the principal reasons for failing to appreciate the utility of recycling:

The key reason people look to reinvent things is that they don’t know what’s already been done. Ignorance, one way or another, is the leading cause of wasted effort everywhere. People who don’t spend time studying the problems they’re trying to solve are bound to reinvent something, and likely not nearly as well. There are only so many ways to design a website, a marketing campaign, or even a product strategy. Instead of driving minions into further brainstorming sessions, it would be wise to ask: Who else has tried to solve this problem? Can we learn from what they have done?

The second reason for reinvention pertains to ego and rewards. In many corporations there is more prestige to be gained for making something new than for reusing work done elsewhere in the company or industry. This is true even when the newly made thing is much worse that what already existed. An executive might proclaim the wonders of the new (worse) thing to his division without encountering anyone willing to stand up for the old (better) thing. It’s harder to inflate the importance of one’s own work if the key decision was to buy or borrow from elsewhere. The verbs “make,” “invent,” and “create” lead to more promotions than “reuse,” “borrow,” or “convert.” In Pavlovian terms, if a culture rewards unnecessary reinvention more than it honors wise reuse, the ambitious will follow suit. Asking people to behave one way while rewarding them for another has predictable results. The counter notion to NIH—”PFE,” or “Proudly Found Elsewhere”—has been talked about before, but I’ve rarely seen it thrive.

Law struggling with changes in material reality: corporate confidentiality this time

I have emphasized again and again the difficulties law faces when there are profound changes in the material reality of our lives, including, for example, demand for new sources of energy. Law is not a set of rules good for all time in all places and all things. It is, rather, an evolving system that tries to do justice in the particular situations it addresses.

The new technologies for copying and disseminating information have of course thrown our legal system into confusion over copyright. Those technologies also are having a profound impact over notions of confidentiality and privacy. Wikileaks is of course in the news in connection with its disclosures of U.S. military secrets, including its release of an Apache helicopter attack in Iraq.

The efforts of a British court to deal with Wikileaks illustrate the difficulties courts often have in applying legal rules that grow out of an era already long past to the new world. Wikileaks’ released of documents from Barclays Bank detailing Barclays’ efforts to use offshore affiliates to evade taxes in Great Britain. A judge ordered the Guardian newspaper, which had published the documents, to take the material down because, he reasoned, the bank had a right to confidentiality.” He also ordered the Guardian not to publish links or other directions for finding the documents on the internet even though they were widely available on sites not based in Great Britain.

As Alan Rusbridger, the editor of the Guardian, explains, the disconnect between the court’s view of confidentiality and the realities of the internet expose a certain degree of absurdity:

The Internet is throwing sharp relief to the illogical nature of our system. Technology is way ahead of the law, and the law is limping along trying to make sense of it.

Professor James Edelman of Oxford believes the court order in connection with the Barclays documents might be the last example of this particular type of confusion, particularly because Barclays may realize that its legal efforts, even if “successful” in getting an order barring publication in the U.K., only serve to publicize the existence of the documents the bank is trying to keep hidden:

“What is significant about the ruling,” he said, “is that it will open people’s eyes that even if you can get an injunction to preserve information that is able to be obtained over the Internet, I suspect that the injunction won’t last.” The publicity over the injunction creates more interest in the material, leading other sites to publish it. The Guardian will be able to return to court, he said, and argue the injunction no longer serves any purpose.

Mr. Rusbridger said that the newspaper still had not decided whether to do that. The cost for being wrong, he said, could be as much $300,000 in legal fees.

Seeming to prove Professor Edelman’s larger point, however, when Wikileaks became overloaded by the traffic about a week ago, another site, techcrunch.org, published the seven memos under the heading “How Barclays Ensured That Everyone Would See Their Confidential Tax Documents.”

Is “mistaken” slot machine award of $11 million a “mistake” that excuses the casino from paying?

Contract law problem: couple walks into a casino, plays a slot machine, and wins $11 million. Casino representative claims the award was a mistake caused by a computer glitch and that the proper the couple “actually won $1627.82. The $11 million was what we call a ‘reset value.’ It’s what the jackpot would have been after the prize was claimed.”

It’s a real situation, and, apparently, “the second time in three months a Colorado slot machine has made a multi-million dollar mistake. In March, a machine malfunction was blamed for a $42 million dollar jackpot.” (hat tip to techdirt.)

But here’s the question the stories don’t resolve: is the casino entitled to pay only $1,627.82? In legal jargon, the casino is seeking “reformation” of the contract it had entered into with the couple — that is, the casino is claiming it can “rewrite” the contract it had with the couple. I put “rewrite” in quotation marks because the contract was not written but, instead, was implicitly understood by the couple and the casino to provide that if they paid their money and pulled the lever on the slot machine they’d be entitled to the winnings that appeared, if any. The reformed contract would be that the casino agreed to pay any amount up to $1,627,82 in exchange for the couple paying the money necessary to play the game.

I don’t know enough about the regulation of casinos to supply the answer to this problem. It may well be that casino bets are treated differently than other contracts. Nevertheless, if standard contract law does apply, the basis of the casino’s position would be a claim that it had made a mistake — that it understood the machine would operate in a manner that would make the top prize the lower amount but, as events proved, that understanding was mistaken. The mistake would be “unilateral” rather than “mutual” because the couple would not have been operating under the same assumption.

In order to prevail on a defense of mistake, mutual or unilateral, the person asserting the defense must establish it did not “assume the risk” of the mistake.” To prevail on a defense of unilateral mistake, the person must also establish either (1) that enforcing the mistaken contract would be “unconscionable”  or (2) the other party knew of or caused the mistake.

Plainly, the couple did not know of or cause the mistake. Whether enforcement of the deal the couple thought it was getting would be “unconscionable” is a difficult question to answer. A deal is “unconscionable” if it is so grossly unfair it would the court won’t enforce it. The mere fact the casino makes out so badly isn’t “unconscionable.” We enjoy the “freedom of contract,” which means we are entitled to take stupid risks and courts will enforce the deals we made that subjected us to those risks (unless, of course, you’re an investment bank).

But whether the deal is “unconscionable” really turns, to my mind, on the other question: did the casino assume t his risk? On the one hand, the casino is the one responsible for the hardware or software that caused the glitch. Moreover, if I read the casino’s explanation correctly, the $11 million the machine originally indicated the couple had won is within the realm of reasonable payoffs on that machine. “It’s what the jackpot would have been after the prize [I presume the $1,672] was claimed.” But, given the casino’s online page of “jackpot winners” — none of whom won more than $10,500 — that doesn’t really seem to be what the casino intended to say.

Finally, the “glitch” is one the casino had reason to know might happen. It was the second time in three months a Colorado slot machine had made a multi-million dollar mistake, and the earlier one was for quite a bit more ($42 million rather than “merely” $11 million).

On the other hand, if the couple had no reasonable grounds to believe their bet could earn them $11 million, it seems a lot less likely they could prevail. In essence, the defense of mistake does not enforce a deal when it turns out the deal literally enforced would turn out to be something entirely different than what the parties believed they were agreeing to. Were they entering into a bet that they knew might pay $11 million? If so, the couple ought to win. If not, the casino ought to win.

A lawyer must separate bluster from truth and act accordingly: Halsey Minor’s fall.

Being an effective lawyer requires an enormous amount of confidence in one’s own judgment. As I tell my students, when you’re a lawyer, there is always someone who is telling you you’re wrong. You have to figure out the extent to which the person telling you you’re wrong is right, adjust your position accordingly, and move on. Frequently, the person telling you you’re wrong is wrong himself. It’s not always easy to tell the difference between wrong and right. But the real signs of maturity are (1) being able to adjust your position to what’s right in someone else’s words, and (2) being able to reject disagreement you judge for yourself is without merit.

[One of my pet peeves with contemporary journalists is precisely there lack of nerve -- rather than making judgments and explaining them, most journalists merely "report" the words of people who disagree without judgment.]

An example of being told I was flat-out wrong occurred over a year and a half ago, when I wrote about Sotheby’s $16.8 million lawsuit against the art collector and Internet entrepreneur Halsey Minor for refusing to pay the auction house for three paintings he bought in May” (including The Peaceable Kingdom and the Leopard of Serenity by Edward Hicks). I explained that I didn’t see merit in Minor’s claims that Sotheby’s had been in the wrong in failing to disclose to Minor that it had a security interest in The Peacable Kingdom and that the painting’s owner had agreed Sotheby’s would receive the proceeds of the sale. Minor argued that he had relied on Sotheby’s expertise in connection with the painting, and that if he had known of Sotheby’s security interest in the painting he would not have been willing to pay so much. In short, he claimed, Sotheby’s had been supposed to be working on his behalf in giving him advice regarding the painting but in fact had been acting on its own behalf and to his detriment.

Minor agreed to buy the paintings in May 2008. We all know what happened subsequently — we all experienced financial disaster. As a result, the art market collapsed, and the paintings Minor had bought were worth significantly less than he had agreed to pay. Moreover, one could presume,Minor might have suffered severe financial problems in and after 2008. I suspected strongly that Minor either no longer had the money to buy the paintings or, at least, no longer saw them as worth owning at the price he had agreed to pay.

Minor, though, made plain in a comment to my post (as he had to other people who had written skeptically of his claims) that he thought I was wrong, concluding

Sotheby’s committed Fraud and will pay for it and its disappointing to see you allow them to get away with charging outrageous fees and then blaming lack on knowledge on the victim.

What do you say to someone so vehement when you think he’s full of it? You ignore him, and you let the evidence speak for itself. Which, apparently, is what Sotheby’s did. As Donn Zaretetsky of the Art Law Blog reported over 2 months ago, the federal judge who heard the case ruled on March 30 in favor of Sotheby’s on all counts, entering judgment in Sotheby’s favor for $4.4 million plus interest, late charges, and legal fees. (Decision embedded below.)

And now Zaretsky points out  too that my suspicions regarding Minor’s financial hardships are, apparently, well-founded. According to the New York Post:

Fallen Internet tycoon Halsey Minor is so hard up for cash that he can’t even afford to send Sotheby’s his art collection to make good on his $6.6 million debt to the famed auction house. Court papers filed yesterday say the CNet.com co-founder ‘has represented that he cannot pay shippers to transport his fine and decorative art as directed.

And Elizabeth Lesly Stevens of the Bay Citizen reports that Minor has defaulted on the rent for the offices of his corporate home, offices which he has abandoned:

Minor Ventures, Minor’s investment vehicle and corporate home in recent years, has recently cleared out of its 12th-floor, 17,000-square-foot space at 199 Fremont, in San Francisco’s trendy SoMa neighborhood. Minor left behind artwork, office equipment and cubicles, says Laura Binai, a staffer with the building’s management company.

“All their mail comes here, but no one comes to get it,” she said.

Minor Ventures is technically a subtenant of insurance giant Aon Corp., which is “hunting down Minor for rent,” Binai says. An Aon spokesman declined to comment, and efforts to reach Minor have been unsuccessful.

And a second part of Minor’s design collection is set to be sold on Wednesday by some of Minor’s creditors. And a court has allowed Sotheby’s “to register the $6.6 million judgment in the Western District of Virginia and the District of Delaware, where Minor has significant assets,” including “a $6.52 million mortgage for a farm near Charlottesville, Va., that he recently brought current after it was foreclosed upon.”

So what does it seem happened? Minor suffered severe financial losses in the second half of 2008 and his emphatic assertions of wrongdoing by Sotheby’s were just so much bluster.

Sothebys v. Minor Judgment